


even of my secret soul

by redledgers



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Soul Selling, or stealing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 19:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19157281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: The Devil isn’t interested in souls, not generally. But she is.





	even of my secret soul

_Tell me, did I sell my soul to the Devil?_

_That would imply the Devil is interested in your soul._

The Devil isn’t interested in souls, not generally. But she is.

 

* 

 

The seat of the throne is icy beneath her, impossibly cold stone that would make it uncomfortable for anyone to stay there for too long. But not Chloe Decker. No, she has a job to do and she will sit here as long as it takes to finish it and close the file.

Just one soul. The opportunity of a lifetime, a chance at redemption, a way free from this hell of her own making. And so she waits.

 

The passage of time here is different, but then she wouldn’t know what normal was even if she had a place to call home. It feels like a second, feels like a thousand years, before the air stirs and her bounty is before her, devilishly smug.

“I believe that’s my seat,” he says.

She raises a brow. “Is it?”

Curiously, he extends a hand toward her. She studies it, could memorize the ring on his finger if she wanted before her eyes flick up to his face again. He sighs. “Not fair to chat when there’s only room for one. Unless, of course you’re looking for something else.”

He knows. She’s not surprised; while he isn’t omniscient, he had friends. Chloe takes his hand and suddenly they’re in a penthouse that glows with dark amber and mahogany. The sound of music is muffled beneath their feet, and she wonders where they are.

“Now,” he says, sitting back on a leather sofa, “where were we?”

“They say the Devil has a soul.”

He frowns, but whether it’s because this is news to him or not what he expected, she can’t tell. And then he tilts his head and considers her. His gaze is unsettling and divine, and of course it is. She really shouldn’t have expected anything else. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She’s moved now, crossing the room to stand in front of the full windows, arms folded. She can see why he likes his throne high. The illusion of complete power, the ability to look down and see everything, even from a distance. Then she spins around. “You know, I think they might be wrong. About the soul thing.”

“Oh?” In this warmth, such a stark difference than the cold bluish grey she had waited in, he seemed like a different person. Softer, vulnerable even. But it was just the light, it had to be.

Chloe stalks toward him. “I don’t think you can have a soul. If you did, it’s already gone.”

He rises to meet her, crowding her space. She can’t quite place the flicker in his eyes when he says, “What an astute observation.” It’s too much and not enough all at once, and she doesn’t _know._

“We’re done here.” She disengages and scans the room for a way out. An elevator pings, and she knows that’s it. She can feel his eyes watching her as she walks away, catches sight of him when she steps into the elevator and turns to face the doors. It feels wrong to leave, but there is no soul here.

 

Not yet, anyway.

 

*

 

She comes back later, a year, a century, an age. It doesn’t matter. Each time, she finds herself in the penthouse with the man they claim has a soul. Each time, she leaves a single step closer to claiming her prize. And each time, it’s harder to step into the elevator and watch the doors close on him.

The terms weren’t clear on _how_ she would take his soul.

“I think you’re searching for something,” he says one night, if there were a thing such as night in this place. He props himself up on the bed and smiles down at her, devilishly smug.

She studies his face as if she hadn’t already committed it to memory and he returns the gaze just as intensely. Her fingertips ghost across his skin, and she knows now that what they say is true. “Not anymore.” Once upon a time, it had been her salvation, a contract burned, a new life. Once upon a time, it had led her to her freedom in the golden and amber place he called home.

 

They say the Devil has a soul. And she was the one who gave it to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Twelfth Night because we're all theater nerds at heart.


End file.
